Of Matchmakers and Mistletoe
by sparkletasia
Summary: Reid's got it bad, will Morgan and Garcia's 'guidance' give him the push he needs? Reid/OC and a smidge of M/G, if you're looking in the right places. Written for falcon-121's One-Shot Fridays.


_A/N- Hey! Please tell me if you see ANY mistakes in this, it was very hurried in an attempt to finish it before Christmas. I'll correct them asap. This is a loose prequel to my story 'Let It Snow' although it is Reid-centric. Please review, I'd love to know what you think! Also, the description 'ridiculously brown eyes' is shamelessly stolen from Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy._

**Of Matchmakers and Mistletoe**

It had been a _hell_ of a day, even in BAU terms. Reid had absolutely no desire to do anything except pass out on the couch, maybe with a pizza and Beethoven for company. Bliss. As he unlocked the door to his apartment, he couldn't help but feel he was forgetting something. Dismissing the lingering feeling, he dropped his satchel and made for his laptop.

Nope, no new mail. Spencer tried not to mind, but he felt himself deflating slightly. He had been kind of hoping to hear back from her-

There was a giggle. There was a giggle coming from his room. Given the fact that he was not in his room, this was a problem. He drew his weapon (although he wasn't too terrified. It wasn't a very threatening giggle), and began to move, slowly and stealthily. Reid threw himself around the doorframe, gun out.

"Kid, you shoot me and I will kill you." The unmistakeable voice of Derek Morgan greeted him. Well. This was an unexpected turn of events. The giggle happened again, although this time he could put it to a face. Penelope Garcia was sprawled on his bed, complete with pigtails and a grin. Morgan was sitting next to her, munching his way through a bag of potato chips.

"There had _better_ not be crumbs in my bed. How'd you two get in anyway?!"

Garcia winked.

"In this life honey, there are some questions that you _really_ don't want the answer to."

Spencer silently agreed with her, adding this to the list of reasons he was secretly convinced she had magic powers.

"Right… so why are you guys here again? Because no offence, but I was kind of hoping for a quiet night in." _Although why do I have the sinking feeling I'm not going to get one?_

The co-conspirators turned to each other, sighing heavily.

"He forgot, baby."

"Told you he would!"

"Poor effort. Are you sure he's a genius?"

Reid coughed. "As much as I enjoy having my intelligence insulted, can somebody please tell me what this is all about?"

"The Christmas party."

"I've changed my mind. Let's go back to insulting my intelligence."

"Oh no you don't!" said Morgan, blocking Reid's attempted escape back through the door. "We're staging an intervention."

"A- what?" His voice was beginning to squeak a little.

"Calm down, handsome." Garcia soothed, sitting him down. "We aren't packing you off to Alcoholics Anonymous or anything. Breathe. Consider this a… social intervention. Trust me; we're doing this for you!

_What the hell?_

"Reid, it has come to our attention that you have a thing."

His eyebrows shot into the air. Morgan blushed and went on.

"Not that kind of thing! Although I'm sure you do, but uh, yeah. Garcia?"

"Mm?"

"Wanna help me out here?"

"Not really. It's pretty fun watching you squirm." Reid looked toward her pleadingly, wondering whether he was ever going to get out of this stupid party. All it would be was some crappy decorations, and a bunch of mildly drunken suits.

She sighed in a most exaggerated manner, puffing her chest out and placing her hands on her hips. Let it never be said that Garcia neglected the dramatics.

"What my dear friend is trying to say here is that we _know_." Seeing no change in Reid's facial expression (one eyebrow was now threatening to leap off of his face), Penelope carried on. "You see Reid, you may be a genius but you aren't exactly subtle. There were signs. Mysterious grins. Excessive phone and email checking. You've left early twice and refused to tell anybody where you're going.

So we did some… digging. Very, only slightly invasive digging. Because we care. When were you planning on telling us?"

"Tell you what?" Reid protested, but it was a feeble effort. They had him, and he damn well knew it. However, he planned on going down fighting.

"Spencer and Amber, sitting in a tree…"

"There is no sitting in a tree! No sitting in a tree whatsoever!"

"Kid, we know. That's why we're here to help. She likes you, and judging by the colour of your face right now, you like her. Unfortunately you're both being decidedly stubborn about not making the first move!" Morgan looked exasperated. "I mean, she's putting a kiss on her emails. I don't think she's writing to you as Agent Scott!"

"You were in my email?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"We just want you too be happy, Reid. Now tell me that she doesn't make you happy."

He couldn't.

"So we're here to stay. Now tell Aunty Penelope and Uncle Derek how this little shenanigan came about. From the beginning please. And if you skip bits? We'll know."

Reid chose the path of least resistance, and began talking.

*

_I was leaving the building about three weeks ago, carrying a case file. I was also trying to find my metro card and drink my coffee, when a gust of wind caught the papers. About a half dozen went flying off into the car park, and when she came outside I was running around trying to catch all of them._

_She didn't ask me what the hell I was doing. She didn't point out how stupid I'd been to let it happen. She just put her handbag down next to my coffee, and started trying to catch them with me. The wind whipped strands of brown hair around her face, and every now and again she'd give me a little smirk. I like to think I smiled back, but it probably came out as more of a grimace._

_Eventually we rounded up all the sheets. She slipped them back inside the case file and told me that I should be more careful next time. But in a nice way. In an 'accompanied by a wink and a smile' way._

_So the next day, I waited outside at the same time. When she arrived, I handed her a Starbucks coffee with thank you written on the side, before smiling and leaving. I like to think I was being suave. It was more that I didn't think I could talk to her without sounding like an over excited encyclopaedia._

_Two days later, we ended up collaborating on a case. I couldn't believe it when she walked into the room. How the hell was I going to impress a girl with statistics on serial murder? I tried to keep my facts to the bare essentials, but I kept forgetting and going off on massive tangents. Panic really._

_I found out her name was Special Agent Amber Scott. I found out that she works in Organised Crime, that she was recently promoted. I observed that she smiled more whenever it rained and that in times of stress she bit at the inside of her lip._

_I learnt that she has the most ridiculously brown eyes._

_We sent a couple of emails after the case, strictly work related. At first. Then they were just chat, funny things we'd overheard in the office, bitching about bosses. I tried to watch what I was saying, tried not to freak her out. But I slipped, and out fell the existentialism light bulb joke. That was it. I told myself that I could kiss goodbye to whatever this had been, could have been._

_She laughed and asked for my number._

_I practically danced out of the bullpen that day._

_We exchanged the odd text, went for coffee once or twice. Well, three times actually. I learnt that she hates crime shows and novels, but loves her job. I learnt that her nails were always immaculate, but her hair lived in a messy bun. She's got a hell of a temper, but it blows over quickly._

_I learnt that I really, really like those ridiculously brown eyes._

I neglected to mention that last bit to the gaping audience on my bed.

"Oh Reid. You've got it _bad_, son."

"We have a serious case of like-like to deal with here Morgan."

"How do you propose we proceed, baby girl?"

"Plan A.5"

"I love the way you think, doll face."

*

Reid felt dizzy. He's been shoved in the shower with some special shampoo that Garcia had thrown at him, and told to stay in there for at least twenty minutes whilst the other two 'prepared'. He dreaded to think what this could involve, but he knew it wasn't malicious. In their own overbearing way, they were genuinely trying to help him out. Stepping out of the cubicle, he squinted at the post it that had been left on his mirror.

_Now, shave. SHAVE GOOD. We see that little moustache shadow. We know you're thinking about it. DON'T. Now shave._

_Love,_

_M & G_

_Ps. For God's sake, try and avoid slicing up your face._

Spencer rolled his eyes, and followed his orders.

*

Clutching his robe tightly, Reid stepped back out into his bedroom. There he found the pair sitting and grinning in an extremely unsettling manner. They had a sort of 'evil gremlin' air about them.

"Mmm… much better. You have to treat those luscious man-locks right! Now, onto the outfit. We have laid out this. Do not deviate from the selected items. Any attempt to do so will result in me ordering my cupcake here to confiscate a season of X-Files."

"And that will hurt you more than it hurts us."

He grimaced, slightly scared by what Garcia would have picked out. Her chaotic outfits suited her, but he was a sweater vest kind of guy. However…. He did love his DVD collection. This seemed like a sacrifice he would have to make. He shooed them out of the room (ignoring Penelope's protests) and went over to see what he had been presented with.

It was surprisingly tame, considering who'd been in charge of it. He wiggled into the black trousers with some difficulty, considering his current cane situation, but once he'd conquered them the shirt and blazer were much easier. There. Not too shabby, he appraised, glancing in the mirror. Although it was a bit monochrome… maybe he should add some colour with the shoes? As he struggled to bend down and reach for the pair he had in mind, the door burst open, causing him to jump and fall to the floor.

"Reid, I swear to the fluffy pink clouds of heaven that if you as much as _touch_ one of those disgusting brown clodhoppers, I will forcibly feed you it!"

Morgan helped him back to his feet whilst Garcia handed him his least-battered pair of Converse. Apparently he was good to go.

*

As they walked into the hall that had been hired, the other men of the BAU beckoned them from a near corner. It seemed they 'didn't play well with others'. Hotch and Rossi looked like they'd literally walked out of the office, and Morgan was just a smarter version of himself. It was the girls who had really gone all out on this one.

As JJ and Emily walked towards them, Reid noted the jaws dropping behind them. JJ was wearing an icy blue dress that, wispy as it was, clung in all the right places. Wispy was definitely not the word for Emily's ensemble though, a deep purple dress that showed off far, far more of her legs than Reid had ever seen. He thought he saw one guy practically falling over trying to get a better view.

Back over where they were, Garcia was holding the fort in striking scarlet. From the way Kevin was glaring, Spencer gathered he hadn't been the only one to clock Morgan's eyes wandering. Hm. Awkward. He was wondering whether anything was ever going to happen between those two, when suddenly everything seemed to fall out of his brain. Amber had walked in.

She looked stunning. Her hair was out of its messy bun for once, and draped around her shoulders, in contrast to her pale skin. Dragging his eyes away from her, ahem, posterior, Spencer took a second to marvel at the way her eyes seemed bigger and brighter than normal. He swallowed hard, before turning to Garcia.

"She's here." He muttered.

"Where? Go! GO!" Reid stumbled as he felt a vigorous push. Regaining his balance, he took a second to run through the advice Morgan had plied him with.

_Rule One: Play it cool. Seem too eager and you'll freak her out. And your voice will squeak. Ice cool, my man. Ice cool._

_Rule Two: Compliment her. But not in a creepy way._

_Rule Three: Be chivalrous. Open doors, get her a drink, that kind of thing. Think knight in shining armour. _

_Rule Four: For the love of all that is good and holy, stow the statistics. Just for tonight. I don't care how much you think she digs them._

He didn't have time for rule five before reaching her. Like it mattered anyway. She grinned at him, and he found himself noting how adorable her wonky nose was (broken in a bust three years ago). What had happened to him? He used to think he was above all this, this… fawning. Apparently not.

"Hey Spencer."

"Hi Amber."

"Are you okay?"

"What? I mean, yep, feel fine. Why?"

"You have kind of a strange look on your face…"

"Oh, ah, ignore that. Happens all the time. I mean, not all the time, but y'know. I'm fine. You look tanfastic. I mean, fantastic!"

Amber cocked her head slightly, looking puzzled.

"Are you _sure_ you're feeling okay, Spencer?"

"I'm great. Really!" _Oh God. Is there a way for this to get worse? _"Would you like a drink?"

She smiled. "That'd be awesome."

"Just, uh, just wait right here."

Reid scuttled back over to the drinks table, where Garcia and Kevin were chatting.

"Help me."

"That bad, huh?"

"Believe me Garcia, if putting my own foot in my mouth would stop me rambling, I'd have done it by now. I told her she looks tanfastic!"

"Reid, honey. Breathe. Just ask her to dance."

"Can't."

"You can say she looks tanfastic, but you can't ask her to dance?"

"No, I mean I can't _dance."_

She shook her head in despair, blonde ringlets flying.

"Are you telling me you had the time for three doctorates, but you couldn't throw in the odd dance lesson?" Reid looked at her despairingly. "Fine. Hold her. Sway. Don't stand on her toes. You're pretty much good to go. Now take her a drink, and pray like hell for a slow song!"

*

So this was dancing.

He'd obviously danced before, legs and arms flailing, jumping around his own apartment. But that was private. This was very, very, public. But he seemed to be managing okay, and he forgot about how embarrassed he was whenever he remembered just who he was dancing with. Amber's arms were wrapped around his neck, and he was trying very, very hard not glance down at the… view. Reid may be a mildly socially awkward genius, but he was still _human_.

The song ended, and the two of them sat down, chatting. Somehow, the subject turned to the day they met.

"You must have thought I was crazy!"

"Not crazy. Just stressed. Really, it was no trouble. And that coffee you brought me the next day? Kicked ass!"

"Hah, seriously? Most people always ask if I'd like any coffee with my sugar."

"I have a sweet tooth."

With that, she looked up, a small smile flickering across her face. He followed suit, curious as to what she was looking at.

Mistletoe.

Looked like he might be getting his Christmas wish after all.

She was leaning in. He was leaning in. Everyone was leaning in and it worked, and he didn't crash into her nose when-

"Hey Reid! Get over here!"

He had never had the urge to get particularly violent with anyone, let alone Rossi, but at that moment he was seriously considering it.

"Come on, Spence!"

He would certainly never hit a woman. But JJ was on a one way street to a torrent of verbal abuse. Or a least a strongly worded letter.

The two who were literally millimetres from each other at this point, broke apart. Amber sighed reluctantly.

"I'm so sorry. Please, please wait here. I'll be right back."

Reaching the group, he proceeded in a rather snappish tone.

"What? Do we have a case?"

JJ and Rossi looked taken aback at the wave of grump they'd been hit by.

"No… just wanted a group picture."

Reid nearly wept.

"Guys, later."

"But Hotch has to go soon, and Emily's nearly wasted…"

"LATER!"

They looked at him warily, but he was gone. Striding back across the dance floor (well, as much as one can with a cane), he looked for Agent Scott. But she was gone.

_Shit. _

At that moment, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas Spencer."

They picked up right where they'd left of, and although Reid could feel himself turning crimson, he couldn't care less.

*

Morgan and Garcia watched the tangled couple, beaming.

"We just get better at this."

"Tell me about it."


End file.
